A Dark Velvet Mind
by DarkMarkBella
Summary: He’d often heard his father liken her to a Black Widow. Draco/Bellatrix Bellatrix/Rodolphus M-Rated


_**Authors Notes**_

_Now, I haven't written anything for over seven months (and then under a different username) – nor have I ever written for the Harry Potter side of fanfiction (save for a few role plays which helped immensely). I would appreciate any and all feedback on this piece but ask you save any flames with regards to the dark content (warnings below) of this, unless it's constructive, for PM's or your own writings. _

_With this being my first time writing for this paring and fandom, characterization took me a while to get to grips with. I would like to thank __**Once A Heavenly Creature/Melissa**__ for assisting me with editing the final piece, and allowing me more time to focus on content and character – really couldn't have got this one out with out you. _

_With regards to feedback, I would appreciate your comments, praise and constructive criticism on the aforementioned characterization, the plot (or lack thereof), the psychology and any additional words you would like to share. _

_**Warnings**__ – not you're cup of tea? Click back now. _

_- M rated – no one under the legal age for your country to read this. _

_- Incest_

_- Dubious consent and violence_

_- Hints at blood play/bondage_

_- Dark psychological content. _

_Thank you for your time and I hope you enjoy reading. _

_

* * *

_

**A Dark Velvet Mind**

He'd often heard his father liken her to a Black Widow.

Not only did she frighten those around her with mere looks, her bite could paralyze. When a Black Widow attacks, the victim becomes unable to breath. When Bellatrix Black attacks, the victim wishes they couldn't. The thought crossed his mind vaguely as Draco found himself led into her bedchamber, a crooked wand pointed harshly at his neck. Her hands were cold and deadly, and the look in her eye punched sharply at his stomach. He wanted to vomit. It was predatory. Determined.

Bellatrix didn't fail.

It was curious how she affected him. From her first visit to Malfoy Manor, mere hours after her escape form Azkaban, he'd been transfixed. Part of him wondered if she'd set a spell that day, one that continued to play him to her whims, or if she simply had the ability to seduce any man or woman she chose to. He knew she didn't specify gender. Her targets were usually those she shouldn't have. Perhaps she enjoyed the thrill of the forbidden. Draco recalled his mothers weeping upon her sisters' arrival, his fathers resigned sigh and it was strange, so very strange, how those thoughts hit him now, when his aunts' hand was tracing circles around his jugular. He should be frightened – instead he was aroused. Her lips pressed against his neck, teeth nipping harshly over his pulse with earnest.

Bellatrix liked blood.

He'd seen her with Greyback, the both of them smeared with vile red stains after an attack; the look of pure excitement on her face had made him recoil at first. Now he found it interesting. He wondered what look he could conjure upon her face if he smeared her with his blood. Part of him wanted to try.

Bella's hands trailed lower, nails tearing at his shirt buttons. "Draco," she purred, a sultry, smug smile pulling at her full lips. In the dim light of the evening candles, they appeared as black as her eyes. Soft amber shadows flickered on the wall behind them, and Draco found it odd that, although they were in the same room, she looked so damn far away. The shadows on her skin made the gauntness more pronounced and, as she slipped the nightgown from her pale shoulders, the boy sucked in a breath at her still emaciated appearance. She was all bone; all angles and shape edges, and he couldn't stop staring. Fingers itched to trace her rips, to grip at her hip bones and she must have read his mind – or maybe she just predicted his reaction – because she pulled him closer, gripping his arms until he touched her where they both wanted.

She felt cold and it burned him. Draco closed his eyes, suddenly unable to look at her, at what they were doing, any longer. "Auntie Bella, we…" he started, though he knew not how to finish. They both knew what he wanted, his erection was pushing into her side and with long fingers she gripped it, silencing any further protest from his lips.

With a vicious push he landed on her bed. The sheets were smoothly silky - she was cold, he was hot and the gritty smoke from the candles on the wall scratched at his skin. The contrast was overwhelming. He felt lost inside his head, dull echoes of her moans as she straddled his hips reverberated between his ears. It was too much. Part of him wanted to push her back, to tell her they were related, and it was wrong and couldn't happen. A more primal part of him wanted to flip her over, ram his cock between her legs and fuck her until she passed out. He bit back a moan as she squeezed him again, reminding himself that his dark thoughts were amply visible to her. Bellatrix fired back even darker ones, and Draco almost cried with want and fear.

And just like that, his mind shut off. Gone were the thought of how wrong this was - her touch deleted any rational thought from his mind. His focus was on her, and her skin and the way her hair trailed devilishly across his thighs when her head dipped lower. She never took her eyes from his and it was odd how it occurred to him, oddly, how little she actually blinked. His own eyes were black with desire and it took all his restraint not to take over – he knew she loved control. Instead, Draco scraped his nails over the skin of her hips, stomach flipping at the guttural moan that escaped her lips.

Bellatrix liked pain.

Briefly, he wondered how far he could push that line; the thought was clouded moments later when she rid him of his clothes, a manic giggle escaping her as she stared down at his trembling frame. There was no disgust now – only raw want. Pinning him to the bed with her thighs, she rolled her hips over his, laughing mockingly as he grew harder under her antics. Bellatrix leaned closer to him, pressing her bare breasts against his chest, and blew a little too tenderly on his neck. He didn't want tender, not from her, he wanted her rough and ethereal.

Rapturous.

She felt sinful and that excited him. Draco bucked his hips up towards her, desperate for just a little more contact. He could feel her hot and ready - smears of her wetness coated his stomach where she rode him. Again, she read his mind and her body grew hotter at the images that played behind his eyes. Complying with his need, she crawled over him, letting him taste her like he wanted. She moaned. Loudly. Draco licked her deeper, arching his back to graze her most sensitive areas with his teeth. She tasted like honey and sour candy and something uniquely her. He was slowly learning she was more addictive than any drug.

Bellatrix was nearing completion, and she must have sensed he wouldn't last long, or maybe she just wanted what he wanted, because she pushed him off her and slinked back down his body until she hovered over his erection. She wasn't slow. Wasn't gentle or caring or affectionate. Feral. She slammed her hips down onto him, taking him in one stroke. Draco struggled to keep up with her pace but quickly found the harsher he was, the louder her moans echoed.

She gripped him tightly, her internal muscles working rapidly against his hard shaft. Draco couldn't keep his eyes off her… Beautiful didn't describe Bellatrix Black (she would always be a Black to him) when she was as wild and dark as she appeared at that moment, riding him hard, head thrown back with her curls ticking his thighs. Again he found himself torn. While he couldn't stop staring transfixed at her body, her full lips and deep eyes, part of him wished she'd turn away, use him like she already was – for raw, physical sex - without the pain of having to want more.

He couldn't.

Teeth nipping harshly at his neck once more, Draco felt her lips pull into a harsh grin as she broke his white skin. He felt the sting only dully, his mind clouded at the sight of her full lips coated in his life as she pulled back, slamming her hips harder twice more – his orgasm hit him roughly, her tongue lapping the vile red blood as she rode him to completion.

Now desperate to make her feel as he did, he dropped a hand to where their bodies still met, letting two fingers dance harshly over her clit. Draco had given up the pretenses – he wouldn't be gentle until she demanded more, not when her grunts filled his head with each brutal movement…

When Bellatrix tensed over him, a satisfied moan reverberating from her chest, he allowed himself one moment of weakness and pulled her down for a soft, chaste kiss. Lost in her release, she didn't fight him and the taste of her, and him, and his blood was so fucking wrong he nearly cried with renewed desire.

Cradling her to his chest, lost in her essence, Draco didn't hear the bedchamber door open with a creak. He didn't hear the footsteps that pounded the floor with potent echoes. His response came only when his aunt was hurled from his arms and to the floor. Bellatrix said nothing at first, simply stared wide-eyed at the man who had interrupted their sordid moment.

"You filthy whore…"

Draco felt pure fear prickle at his chest. His heart pounded and his mouth dried and, much as he tried, response failed him. The boy could do nothing but stare up into the face of his uncle.

Bellatrix frowned, a small pout forming on her lips as she reached for her robe and wrapped it around her bare shoulders. "You always spoil my fun, Rodolphus," she spat, and Draco wasn't sure if she was concerned for their safety or not. When her husband's hands gripped and fisted roughly in her thick black hair, pulling it back with a sharp tug, Draco realized she had underestimated his response. Swiftly, his eyes fell on her wand that lay on the floor beside the bed.

Her only defense was out of reach.

/---/

The air became stagnant, thick and heavy. She tasted acid and restraint as she tried furiously to free her head. Casting wide, almost fearful eyes up to his, Bella felt any sense of contentment flee her body. Letting out a small cry of surprise when he gripped her arm, lifting her to her feet and throwing her roughly to the bed she searched the floor frantically for her wand, a pained murmur escaping her as Rodolphus kicked it further away.

The mummers continued as he moved to remove his clothes, eyes red with rage. "What's wrong, Bella?" Rodolphus sneered. "You'll fuck your nephew but you won't fuck your husband?" She let out a whimper and his hand collided with her face. Mottled red colored her ghostly cheeks. The pain was familiar, almost comforting, and flashes of her past plagued her mind. Lifting herself slightly, she traced her wrist, feeling the raised scars that remained from the shackles - in a dark way missing the blood that used to flow from the wounds. The thick black liquid warmed her frozen skin during those darker nights, those nights she'd deliberately rile the guards just to have them whip her into submission, just to feel the warmth of her own blood escaping from the raw wounds on her back. She craved his beatings. They made her feel.

Feeling angry and out of place, Draco stood, eyes darting to the door as though considering leaving – could he? - and fetching his mother. A whip of white light flashed through the air, and his frame was suddenly propelled back into the chair he'd vacated, arms crossed and bound behind the wooden back.

"You're not going anywhere, Malfoy." His uncles' eyes were narrowed with power and arousal. "I'm gonna show you how to fuck her properly." Draco squinted, unwilling to close his eyes even for a second, in case Rodolphus took the chance to really hurt Bellatrix. Fear prickled between his ears.

With more invisible binds, Rodolphus pinned his wife down, gripping her wrist tightly, bruising her as he did so. Draco couldn't tear his eyes away. The note of fear on his aunts face was now more pronounced – he'd only seen it once before when she failed a task the Dark Lord had issued her. Right now, Rodolphus matched the Dark Lords magical power with physical strength, taking what he claimed to be rightfully his.

Bellatrix fought against his binds, cursing him aloud; she sounded angry, but her tone hid a hint of pleading. "Let me go, you filthy…" A suitable insult failed her, and she simply thrashed under him, hating the way his face lit with satisfaction. Hating more the way her own incapacity aroused her.

His hands trailed her body, removing the cloak she had so carelessly flung around herself. Nails dug into her skin, blood pooled in the crevices of her bones, and a moan escaped her lips despite the situation. "You're one fucked up bitch." The words cut through the clouds in her mind and her eyes squeezed shut. The more her husband called her dirty names and the more pain he inflicted, the further her mind faltered. Behind closed eyes, images of the past flashed - faceless bodies writhing on the floor, held under her bitter curses. Blood dripping on dirty floors, rusted shackles – suddenly, as his hands groped at her bare breasts, the bodies weren't faceless and oxygen faded. Bright stars sparkled behind her eyelids and she turned her head into his neck, hoping to keep them, let them cover what she now saw. She stared down at her own figure, bound in metal, twisting and contorting under the hopelessly draining chill of the Dementors. She sucked in ragged, desperate breaths as figures closed in on her, taking advantage of her bound state - dirtying her body with their vile caresses and perverse invasions. The figures faded and Rodolphus took their place…

He was everywhere all at once and she couldn't breath. Draco let out a pained murmur as his uncle forced three fingers into his aunts cunt. The cry she gave was unidentifiable – a mix of pain, surprise and excitement. The younger boy noticed, with some disgust, her arousal; the wetness on Rodolphus' fingers was obvious even from his distance. Draco cringed as Bella's head flew back, eyes still shut. He wondered what she was thinking – if images of her husband played before her eyes, or men of the past, or if she was so damn disassociated she didn't even know what was happening. Though young and inexperienced, he wasn't stupid; Draco was more than aware of how bodies responded to stimulation even if the mind wasn't in it. He wondered just how often his uncle forced himself upon her like this. Bellatrix seemed curiously unsurprised by his violence.

As Rodolphus entered her, he gripped her face. "Look at me Bella," he demanded. "Look at me, you bitch!"

Her eyes opened reluctantly, and her lips trembled with fear, pain and desire. She waited for the command she knew would come, searching her mind for the answer that would appease him.

"Tell me whom you belong to," Rodolphus spat as he thrust into her roughly. When she gave nothing but a whimper in response, he thrust harder, fingers tightening around her face until her teeth ripped into her cheeks. Ignoring the blood escaping her, he growled out again, "Tell me whom you belong to."

Bellatrix knew exactly why he did this. Jealously and knowledge that she gave herself fully, in every capacity, to the Dark Lord plagued him; he couldn't stand the thought of the woman he considered to be his own desiring his master; couldn't stand even more the knowledge she acted on those desires whenever He wanted her. And Lucius, Fenir… Draco…

Eyes blank and stony, Bellatrix recited, "I belong to you. I am yours," as her husband finished, jerking and twitching inside her.

Smiling smugly, Rodolphus pulled out, leaving her sore, bleeding and unsatisfied. It wasn't a new experience, but it was the first time anyone other than the Dark Lord had viewed it. Bella's eyes flicked to Draco and then closed upon seeing the broken look in his eye. He shouldn't have seen that. She cursed herself for letting him see her so vulnerable.

With a snap, the pair felt their arms and legs release as the binds were vanished. "Clean yourself up," Rodolphus spat at his wife, "You disgust me." Turning to Draco, the older mans' eyes narrowed. "And you," he started, "I needed a new plaything. You want me to keep quiet about this you'll do my bidding, boy. Understood?" Draco let out a reluctant nod. "Good." Before he turned to leave, Rodolphus glanced back towards his battered wife. "That, Draco, is how you should leave the women you fuck."

With Rodolphus gone, the room fell silent save for Draco's heavy heartbeat and Bellatrix's labored breathing. The boy remained seated, though he yearned to hold his aunt in his arms. The sight in front of him filled him with more fear than her sadistic seduction.

Bellatrix looked broken.

"Auntie Bella… I…" he started, unsure how to broach the subject with her. He stopped shortly when she shook her dark head, one small drop of her freshly spilled blood rolling further down her check with the movement. He found it curious how it mirrored the path of a teardrop she'd never shed.

Tentatively, she sat up, confusion playing over her face. Rising slowly on weakened legs, he crossed the room towards the bed, meeting her in front of it as she rose to retrieve her wand. Draco recognized the battle in her eyes as he approached her – it was a mix of desiring the pain and torment and fearing the repercussions so greatly. He observed her reaching for her robes, trailing her body with his gaze and picking out marks he hadn't noticed through his earlier haze of desire. The scars on her back, her thighs – he was sure her husband didn't inflict all of them. Once clothed and reunited with her wand, she lifted her head and once again shook it.

Draco frowned. She wanted him to keep quiet? Her husband was beating her… raping her, and she wanted him to just forget it? She didn't seem to realize how much he cared, how much seeing her abused like that had affected him. "I can help you," he started simply, reaching out a hand to take her arm.

Abruptly, she pulled it back, wand whipping up to rest beneath his chin – much as it had when he first entered her bedchamber, he noted – pressing hard against the dip under his jaw. A red spark hissed at the tip, but no spell formed. Her words were tightly controlled, though her eyes flickered like wildfire. "You will not speak of this," she hissed, pushing the tip of the wood harder against him, cementing her point.

Draco let out a sigh, summoning enough courage to push her wand away gently. Replacing the hand she'd shrugged away, he took a step towards her. "It doesn't have to be like this," he murmured, wiping a smear of blood from the shoulder that peeked from the nightgown. "How can you let him treat you like that?" There was no accusation in his question.

"He's my husband," she stated as explanation and it really was as simple as that in her eyes. He was her pureblood husband and she his pureblood wife – family values, heritage and fear cemented them together; it was an arranged marriage built solely to further a suitable family line.

Wishes, be damned.

"He doesn't love you."

Words failed her and she merely glanced away, her silence telling him she agreed with his comment. She didn't care. Locked inside her dark velvet mind she was so completely aware of her own body, she sensed the delicate exchange of oxygen between vessels in her blood stream - felt the stab of satisfaction as her exhausted body rejuvenated only to find itself lacking vital parts. She wasn't whole - not anymore. And it wasn't just her body that was fractured and shattered. She didn't know what she was herself. Her mind felt smooth and cushioned - as though banging it against a hard wall would leave only dull pain - but that softness hid the scars of her past, both inflicted and innate. Bellatrix could no longer tell the difference.

Shaking her head as though to clear the thoughts there, she stood taller, eyes staring past him blankly. Draco resigned himself to failure as he realized her intention and, without so much as a glance back to him, she whispered again, "You will not speak of this," and left the room, letting the oak door click shut with a quiet creak behind her.

* * *

_Fin. _

_7/12/2009_

_

* * *

  
_


End file.
